


and at last i see the light

by the_chaotic_lesbian



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, Fairy Tale Retellings, Fluff and Angst, Healing, Inspired by Tangled (2010), M/M, Magic, Near Death Experiences, fe3h exchange, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:55:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25964722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_chaotic_lesbian/pseuds/the_chaotic_lesbian
Summary: All Linhardt's ever known is his tower.But all of that changes when Caspar climbs his way into the tower, and into Linhardt's heart, taking him on a journey he won't soon forget.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~OR: the casphardt tangled au that nobody asked for but I wrote anyways
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez & Linhardt von Hevring, Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring, background Doropetra - Relationship
Comments: 6
Kudos: 60





	and at last i see the light

**Author's Note:**

> this was mostly written for @treefroglee for the fe3h exchange, but also because I needed a good excuse to write it at all. i hope you enjoy!!! 
> 
> title is from "i see the light" from tangled

Once upon a time, there was a kingdom with eleven heirs. 

However, each and every one of them grew ill and died, one by one. Desperate, the king begged with the spirits to save his children, and save his kingdom. The spirits agreed, and they produced another heir, one with healing abilities. 

Because of the spirits’ gift, one of the heirs was spared from the horrible plague. Her name is Princess Edelgard, but she’s irrelevant to the story. 

For her uncle, Lord Arundel, launched a bloody attack against the neighboring kingdoms, conspiring with dark forces to take power for himself. This angered the spirits, and they quickly reclaimed their gift, claiming that only one who is worthy could use their gift and the kingdom had been proven unworthy. 

Though many tried and failed to find the spirits’ gift, it has remained hidden for twenty long years. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All Linhardt’s ever known is his tower. 

It’s a dark, dull thing. He hardly has the energy to make it into anything else. Perhaps someone with a creative mind, a more active imagination, could turn a prison cell into a home, but just thinking about putting in that much work gives Linhardt a headache. 

The spirits who raised him don’t tell him much.  _ Stay here,  _ they whisper, in the wind that whistles through the window.  _ The outside world is dangerous,  _ they say, through the water that refills itself in the basin.  _ You are a precious gift that this world does not deserve. _

A gift? Linhardt doesn’t feel like a gift. But he supposes his very long, very magical hair says otherwise. 

The spirits keep him pretty well entertained. He has meals - food that he doesn’t always eat, but appreciates regardless - twice a day, and his bookshelf refreshes itself every week, and he has more journals than he knows what to do with. Plus, he has Arlow, his beautiful falcon, to keep him company.

Nevermind that Arlo doesn’t speak. Linhardt doesn’t really care. 

There’s one thing he’s never been able to do here, locked away in his tower. The stars. Linhardt’s read all about the stars, and constellations, in the books that the spirits bring him, but he’s never really gotten to see them himself, save for through his tiny window. 

He thinks he’d do anything to get to go see them himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Anything” turns out to be some ruffian, who managed to find Linhardt’s tower and  _ climb  _ it and is now passed out on his floor.

Linhardt stares at this… this man, who had mouthed the words ‘save me’ right before completely collapsing. Probably out of exhaustion, considering he had climbed the tower with only his bare fists.

What should he do? 

“Spirits,” he says, gingerly creeping around the man, a book wrapped tightly in his arms. His hair is tossed all around the room, green locks scattered carelessly. He’s never been one to do anything with his frustratingly long hair, but cutting it is out of the question, so now it pools around his feet as he nudges the limp figure with his toes. “What should I do?” 

The wind whistles, but no voice whispers back to him. For once, his invisible, all-powerful guardians are… silent. 

And it’s not like Linhardt is naive. He’s spent his entire life with his nose in books, writing down any important knowledge that had piqued his interest into his journals. His walls are decorated with notes that he’s pinned, and he has a wealth of knowledge just underneath his fingertips, ready for him to dig into. He’s not naive. 

But he’s never had to deal with… well, a person. 

“What do you think, Arlow?” He asks, holding out his arm so that his gorgeous falcon can come land on it. Arlow flaps over to him, staring at the man with a beady gaze. He squawks. 

“Yeah, me too.” Linhardt bends down, nudges the man’s head with one singular finger. The man is… warm. Fleshy. He makes a little noise when his head shifts that has Linhardt withdrawing just as quickly, hand jerking like he touched something hot. 

Arlow squawks again. 

“No, we’re not throwing him out of the tower,” Linhardt sighs. He’s not sure what to do. How is this person going to react? What does he want? The spirits said that all humans were evil, conspiring with dark magic, and they didn’t deserve a gift like himself. But… but the spirits are quiet, and surely they wouldn’t allow a human to get this close if he were evil, right? 

Right? 

Linhardt grits his teeth. He has work to do. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours later, and he has the human all tied up to a chair, kept bound by Linhardt’s own hair. It had taken far too much effort on his part, but he had to be sure. He doesn’t know what this man wants, after all. 

Right as Linhardt’s wrapping the last of his hair around the chair, the man begins to stir, and then open his eyes. Linhardt doesn’t bother stepping into the shadows. What’s the point? If this man is here, at Linhardt’s tower, he must want his hair. Which means there’s no point in hiding it. 

“Wha…” the man releases another groan, and he struggles for a moment. Linhardt can feel the tug to his scalp, but it’s nothing more than a minor inconvenience when he’s spent his entire life with enough hair to fill an entire room. 

He doesn’t say anything, just stares as the foreign man comes to. 

“W-who are you? Where am I?” The man struggles some more, and his bright blue eyes lock with Linhardt’s own, wide with panic. “Is that… is this… hair?” 

“Hmm.” Linhardt studies him. The man looks to be about his age, with a shock of blue hair that perfectly matches his eyes, wearing all black like he’s trying to blend in with the shadows. It certainly won’t work with that hair. 

“I’ll ask the questions,” he decides, and Arlow chirps his agreement, “like your name. And what you’re doing in  _ my  _ tower.” 

“Your tower?” The man frowns. “I didn’t know this was anyone’s tower! I was just-” 

“Do be quiet.” Linhardt sighs, rubbing his temples. Dealing with actual people is  _ exhausting.  _ He prefers Arlow, who doesn’t talk back. 

“But you asked me a question!” The man tries to get out of his hair again, squirming. Linhardt just patiently tightens his grip on his own locks. “My name’s Caspar, by the way. What’s yours?” 

“...Linhardt.” 

“Okay,  _ Linhardt,  _ why am I all tied up? In your hair? Saints, your hair is long…” Caspar stares at the locks of hair keeping his wrists pinned to the chair.

Linhardt blinks, “my hair is why you’re here, isn’t it?” 

“No?” Caspar settles into the chair, resigned. “I came here to get away from the kingdom’s army. I didn’t know you were here, honest.” 

Huh. Interesting. Linhardt glances at Arlow, who gives a little chirp of approval. Can he trust this… human person? 

Well, worst case scenario, the spirits will come back and attack, right? 

“The kingdom,” he starts, even as he slowly begins unwinding his hair from the chair, “can you… see the stars, in this kingdom?” 

Caspar blinks. “Well, yeah? You can pretty much see the stars everywhere, you know. Wait.” He pauses, and he’s staring at Linhardt with a blank look. “Have you… never been out of this tower before?” 

Linhardt shakes his head, which proves to be a mistake considering his head is attached to the hair that he’s trying to unwind. Why did he make this so difficult for himself? “Too much work.” 

“But… you wanna see the stars.” The last of Linhardt’s hair falls away from the chair, and Caspar stands, brushing off his clothes. He immediately darts to the window, like he’s going to leave, and why shouldn’t he leave? 

_ He could tell the world about you,  _ a voice whispers in Linhardt’s head. It’s not the familiar voice of the spirits, so he ignores it. 

“Huh. I guess you can’t really see the sky from this itty bitty window.” Caspar peers out the window, and then turns. The sunlight catches his hair, giving him a glowing, pale blue aura. “Well, what’s stopping you from leaving? Do you have like, a super secret evil witch mom that keeps you locked up here?” 

Linhardt snorts. “Heavens no. That kind of stuff is only in books.” 

“Okay, then you should totally get out there, see the world!” Caspar waves his hands in what’s probably supposed to be some sort of gesture, but it just looks like he’s having some sort of muscle spasm. It’s amusing. 

“Alone? No thanks. The world is evil.” Linhardt wrinkles his nose. “It is evil, isn’t it?” 

“Well, I guess so,” Caspar scratches the back of his neck, suddenly looking all sheepish. “But I’m trying to change that! It’s kinda why I’m hiding here. But!” His eyes widen, and he grins. “What if I brought you with me? You could leave this stuffy old tower, and see the world, and help me stop evil!” 

“I dunno. Helping you stop evil sounds like an awful amount of work.” Linhardt yawns. He’s… not sure he wants to leave the safety of his tower, anyways. Not whenever the spirits will surely punish him and maybe not refresh his bookshelf, or stop bringing him food and water. 

“I could…” Caspar scrunches his nose, and it’s adorable, and Linhardt has to glance away, “I could take you to see the stars! There’s this  _ awesome  _ meteor shower a couple days from now, the princess heir hosts a party for it every year with her and her closest friends, and I happen to be one of her closest friends, so I could totally get you in to watch it too!” 

That… is tempting. After all, the spirits could never allow him to watch the stars himself. They don’t even correct him when he adds stars to his detailed map dotting the ceiling. Linhardt glances back at Caspar, at his outstretched hand, at his bright, sparkling eyes, and wonders; how bad can this be? 

“Okay,” he relents, and he tugs his hair behind him, wincing as it drags through far too many objects in the room. “I’ll go with you. But you’ll have to do most of the work. Like carry me when I’m tired.” 

“Deal!” Caspar reaches out, taking Linhardt’s hand. It’s warm, and firm, and although Arlow squawks in protest, he can’t help but smile fondly before he yawns again. 

“Now how do we get down?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a lot of awkward fumbling, Linhardt had successfully looped his hair into a knot, lowering himself and Caspar down out of the tower, and… it’s strange. The grass feels weird underneath Linhardt’s feet. He wishes he had shoes, like the boots that Caspar was wearing. 

Caspar had spent the first few minutes down from the tower glancing around wildly, like he was expecting something to jump out at them. And maybe he  _ is  _ expecting something; he did say he was hiding, after all. 

“...Are we leaving yet?” 

“Oh! Right.” Caspar jumps into attention, and he has that weird sheepish look on his face again. “Okay. Let me think of what route we should take to the capital.” 

Linhardt takes a step forward, wincing at the weird texture underneath his feet. His outfit - a simple gown that was a lot breathier than the various pants and other outfits the spirits brought him - doesn’t quite touch the ground, which is a good thing, because he can already  _ feel  _ the dirt smudging on the pads of his feet. 

“Do you think we could get me some shoes?” He asks, wrinkling his nose. 

Caspar turns and stares at Linhardt’s feet for a moment, as though he couldn’t understand the question, before he blinks. “Oh! Oh gosh, your feet must be so surprised!” 

“...my feet can’t feel anything. They’re  _ feet. _ ” 

“I meant… ugh.” Caspar shakes his head. “I meant that, well, you haven’t left your tower, so texture must be really weird, huh?” 

“Yeah,” Linhardt mutters, nudging at a rock with his toes. It moves, and he flinches back, startled. “Something like that.” 

“Well, no worries! I have a friend who works as a tailor. She’s bound to have new clothes and shoes, and she can hook you up, easy!” Caspar reaches out and grabs Linhardt’s hand again. “Come on. The stars await!” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first place Caspar brings him to is a shop that looks to be straight out of one of the books Linhardt had gotten from the spirits. 

Walking is a pain. He’s not sure if this trip will be worth the effort. But Caspar’s spent the entire trip rambling about stories from his childhood. Arlow followed them at a distance - he doesn’t like Caspar very much, Linhardt’s realized - so Linhardt’s attention is entirely on his new human friend. 

Which is good, because listening to Caspar talk about growing up with a family lessens the aching in Linhardt’s feet. 

(And increases the aching in his heart, but he ignores that.) 

“And then, Freddy said- oh look, there’s the shop!” Caspar tugged on Linhardt’s hand, all but dragging him towards the building. Linhardt wanted to linger, because honestly, the shops are… gorgeous. Absolutely stunning. He’s never seen so many buildings before… 

He spies movement out of the corner of his eye, but then Caspar’s dragging him through a door, and he quickly forgets about it when he sees the assortment of fabric within the shop. 

“Bernadetta!” Caspar exclaims, as Linhardt stares at all of the dresses hanging on a rack, rolls of fabric scattered throughout the store. 

“Ah! What do you want!” A voice squeaks from behind a curtain, before a girl with a head of purple hair peeks out. 

“Bernie, come out, it’s just me! Well, it’s mostly me. I, ah, brought a friend.” Caspar smiles, tugging at Linhardt’s hand. It draws his attention away from the fabrics and towards the shopkeeper.  _ Another human…  _

“Oh, Caspar,” the new human - Bernadetta? - says, before she jumps back again, her eyes wide. “Eep! A… friend… hair?” 

Are all humans this mildly annoying? Linhardt gives a little tossing of his hair, the familiar weight settling against his back. 

“This is Linhardt! I totally found him in-” Linhardt elbows Caspar. He doesn’t really want his secret tower to be broadcasted to any random human that the pair happen to cross. He still doesn’t really know if he can trust anyone out here, after all. 

Bernadetta looks pale, and she’s eyeing Linhardt’s long tresses of hair with some emotion that Linhardt can’t quite pick up on. It’s like she’s never seen such a thing before. And she probably hasn’t, now that he’s thinking about it. Huh. 

“Do you think you have any clothes he could wear?” Caspar, thankfully, picks up on Linhardt’s wariness, squeezing his hand reassuringly. Linhardt can’t help but squeeze it back, relishing in the warmth of another touch. He didn’t know that was something he was longing for until now. 

“Uh… uh huh…” Bernadetta steps away, although her gaze doesn’t once leave Linhardt and his hair. He shifts from one foot to another, uncomfortable with the attention. 

_ It’s not too late to turn back,  _ that traitorous voice whispers in his head. He grits his teeth against the passion in it. It’s not too late, but if he turns back now, he’ll never be able to satiate his own curiosity… he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get this opportunity again. 

“Please, stop staring,” is what he says, shifting again. Vaguely, he realizes this is the first thing that he’s spoken since they entered the shop, and he should probably be nicer, but he doesn’t care. 

“Ahhh, I’m so sorry!” Bernadetta leaps away like she touched something hot, shuffling through the stack of clothes that she had laying next to her. 

“Don’t… it’s fine, really,” Linhardt turns to look at Caspar, helplessly. He doesn’t know what to do. She sounded upset. Is she upset? 

Caspar just chuckles, and his eyes are sparkling again. “Don’t worry, Lin, she’s usually like this. But she’s the sweetest person I know, she’s just gotta warm up to you.” 

“Lin?” 

“Oh… whoops.” Caspar gives another sheepish little smile. “Guess it just slipped out. Sorry, Linhardt.” 

Linhardt flushes. “No, it’s okay. I… suppose you can call me Lin.” 

He’s never been given a nickname before. From what he’s gathered from his books, nicknames are only given by close friends, or lovers. He doesn’t really think Caspar counts as either of those, but maybe one day… 

“Here you go!” 

Bernadetta has stopped fishing around in her piles of fabric, and she offers a simple white fitted tunic and a pair of brown slacks. “The-these should be in your size! I think…” 

“Oh…” Linhardt takes the clothes, and then releases Caspar’s hand to bend over, tugging at the hem of his gown. 

“What are you doing?” Caspar and Bernadetta speak at the same time, and they both sound so  _ confused.  _ Linhardt doesn’t understand them. 

“Changing?” Linhardt tilts his head, releasing his gown. “That’s… what you wanted me to do, right? Change clothes?” 

“You can’t just… change in front of us!” Caspar shields his eyes, and his cheeks are a dark red, and it’s almost amusing in a way. Linhardt snorts. 

“Why not?” 

“Because it’s… it’s indecent! Just… go behind that curtain!” 

Humans are  _ weird.  _

“Okay, okay, I’m going.” Linhardt ducks behind the curtain, stripping out of his gown to don the outfit that Bernadetta had picked out for him. It’s a bit more restrictive than his gown, but if it will help him fit in… 

Well. He’s survived this long without the help of other humans, but he will admit, the company he’s had these past several hours has been… nice. Really nice. 

He steps out of the curtain, gown wound up under his arm, to find Bernadetta kneeling, her fingers in his hair. It would be annoying, except he can’t even feel the touch, not with how long his hair is. 

Caspar is staring at him, too. It’s weird. He still doesn’t think he likes being stared at. But maybe he’s just not used to it, when the only thing that’s ever actually looked at him before was Arlow. 

“Shoes?” He asks, lazily, dropping the gown onto the floor. He doesn’t… need it anymore, and he’d rather not carry it around with him everywhere. Even if he does think his new clothes are restricting. 

“Shoes! Right.” Bernadetta stands, brushing off her knees, and then pulls a pair of plain brown boots out. “Caspar, you better keep your promise about this! I’m not a shoe maker!” 

“I  _ always  _ keep my promises, Bernie!” Caspar hands the boots to Linhardt. He stares at them, frowning, before bending down to tug them on. They fit… surprisingly well, considering nobody measured his feet. That was something that people would do with shoes, right? 

“We’ll see you at the festival, right?” 

“Is… is your friend going?” Bernadetta has resumed her petting motions in Linhardt’s hair. He watches her amusedly as she bends down, gathering locks in her arms before standing up again, hardly able to keep her grip on his hair with just how  _ much  _ of it there is. 

“I’m going,” he answers, before Caspar has the chance. “It’s why I’m here.” 

“Right! Oh, I should’ve known that, shouldn’t I? Stupid Bernie…” Bernadetta releases his hair, and it tumbles to the ground, and Linhardt winces. 

“I’d love to stay and chat with ya, Bernie, but I was thinking that Dorothea could help out with Linhardt’s… hair.” Caspar is staring at his hair too. Linhardt’s only met two humans, but he’s guessing that most regular humans don’t have absurdly long hair. 

Bernadetta opens her mouth to speak, but she just squeaks in surprise and dives to hide somewhere.  _ What?  _

The doors burst open. 

“Caspar von Bergliez!” A man busts in, decked in reds and golds and carrying a sword. Linhardt doesn’t like swords. He had studied weapons for only a short couple of weeks before the sight of silver dripping with blood in the illustrations had nauseated him to the point that he’d benched that area of study. 

Caspar swallows. “Nope! You got the wrong guy.” 

“Don’t test me, kid. You look just like your older brother.” The man grins, but there’s no humor or anything in it. 

Linhardt doesn’t know what’s going on, but he knows that he doesn’t like the look at that grin.  _ Evil,  _ he can almost hear the spirits say. 

“Okay, fine, you have the right guy.” Caspar smiles. It would almost be a scary smile, except there’s no malice in it. It’s almost as if Caspar is trying to challenge the man with a smile alone. “Now come on, fight me!” 

The man’s grin only deepens. “Very well. I’ll enjoy reaping the benefits of your reward money.” 

Bernadetta is hiding in the corner, and Caspar charges at the man with nothing but his bare fists, and Linhardt sighs. It’s not like he can do anything to help fight off… whoever this is. His magic is only good for healing, he knows that. 

But Caspar’s punching the man anyways, and he’s so… so careless about the way he does it. Like he doesn’t care what happens to him so long as he wins and makes the man go away. It’s stupid and dumb and honestly, doesn’t he even care about their little deal? He can’t take Linhardt to see the stars if he’s  _ dead.  _

And, lucky for him, Linhardt’s studied all sorts of martial arts. He went through a phase a couple years ago. If only he had his journals with him… 

“Caspar! Dodge!” He calls out, as the man’s sword swings at him. It slices straight through the fabric of Caspar’s tunic, and Linhardt winces in sympathy. If Caspar notices, though, he doesn’t say anything, just grunting a little bit as he launches himself forward, knocking his fists against the man’s head. 

The man stumbles back, and then Caspar hits him again, and he falls to the ground unconscious. 

“Phew! That was a close one.” Caspar’s panting, and he reaches out his hand, that same grin on his face. “Come on, Lin. Before he wakes up!” 

Linhardt takes his hand. 

“See you at the festival Bernie!” And then Caspar’s dragging Linhardt out of the shop, away from the unconscious man. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, who was that?” 

They’ve made a camp in the woods. It’s dark, and horribly dirty, and Linhardt misses the warmth of his tower fiercely, but Caspar’s made a fire and he’d acquired bedrolls from Bernadetta’s shop, so it could be worse. Plus, Arlow’s rejoined them, and he perches on the edge of Linhardt’s log, ruffling his feathers. 

Caspar sits down himself. His sleeve is still torn, and while Linhardt is sure he could mend it, he doesn’t have any of the necessary supplies to do so, not here. However, if the sword had cut him… 

Well that, he can fix.

“One of my father’s guards,” Caspar says, miserably. He doesn’t seem too bothered by the sword wound. “I should’ve known they were still looking for me.” 

“Your father is sending guards after you?” Linhardt frowns. “Don’t tell me you’re secretly a prince or something.” 

Caspar laughs, shaking his head. “Nah, nothing so fancy. He…” he swallows, glancing away. “He works for the King’s advisor. Lord Arundel. And Lord Arundel doesn’t like me very much.” 

“I don’t see how anyone couldn’t like you.” Linhardt scoots closer, if only to get a better look at the tear on Caspar’s arm. He sees red, and sucks in a breath as his stomach churns. He doesn’t like blood much, he’s realized. 

Caspar flushes red. “Well, he doesn’t. Probably cause I’d rather work for his niece - the princess heir, Edelgard - than him. And also I’m pretty sure he’s evil. Like,  _ evil  _ evil.” 

“Well, good thing you found me and not him, hmm?” Linhardt reaches out one hand, tugging on Caspar’s injured arm. “Now let me see this.” 

“What?” Caspar makes a face. “It’s okay, Lin, I’ve had worse. It’s just a scratch.” 

“Shut up and let me work.” Linhardt tugs a long lock of his hair to wrap around Caspar’s arm. Arlow helps, tangling his claws into Linhardt’s hair and guiding it where Linhardt’s own fingers can’t reach. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Healing. Again, shut up.” 

Once Linhardt’s got his hair thoroughly wrapped around Caspar’s arm, he sighs. He doesn’t like this part much. “Now just relax. And don’t freak out. You’re loud enough as it is.” 

“What?” 

Linhardt hums. 

It’s a special tune. Perhaps someone of better skill would sing the tune as a song, with actual lyrics, but Linhardt’s never been the singing type. So no, he just hums, and watches as his hair picks up on the melody and glows. 

Caspar yelps. 

Linhardt hums the last few notes of the melody, his eyes fluttering close. He can feel the white magic emanating from him, from his hair. 

As soon as he finishes the song, he opens his eyes, tugs his hair away from Caspar’s arm. The other looks gobsmacked, eyes wide, staring at the strands of light green hair. 

His arm, of course, is healed, like Linhardt was intending. Perhaps he should’ve been clearer in his intentions. But he  _ did  _ say he was healing! 

“Lin, what the fuck?” Caspar jerks away from him, staring down at his arm. “That was… that was magic. You can do magic?” 

Linhardt snorts. “Yes, Caspar. I can do magic.” He combs through his hair with his fingers, gritting his teeth as he works through some of the tangles. He has a thick skull - he  _ has  _ to, with how long his hair is - but after he uses his magic, he’s especially sensitive. 

“Is… is that why you live in a tower? By yourself?” And by now, Caspar’s staring at him like he’s some sort of mythical creature, which he's not. He’d know if he were. Wouldn’t he? 

“I suppose,” Linhardt tugs his hair away from Caspar, stands so that he can plop down in one of the bedrolls that Caspar had brought. “Now if you excuse me, that was absolutely exhausting and I would like to sleep.” 

“But… ugh, fine.” Caspar moves as well, Linhardt can hear the rustling even as he settles into the roll, shutting his eyes. “Tomorrow, I’ll bring you into the capital, for the festival. Oh, you’re gonna love it, Lin!” 

“I bet I will.” Linhardt mumbles, and then he’s drifting off. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

True to his word, the next day, Caspar takes Linhardt by the hand and leads him into the capital. 

It’s nice to get out of the trees. Linhardt’s had his fill of trees. And his feet ache still, and now his back hurts from sleeping on the ground, but it’s not the first time he’s slept in a weird spot. After all, he’s fallen asleep on the floors of his tower numerous times, only to be woken by the spirits and nudged back into bed. 

“So,” Caspar says as they walk, the bedrolls stored away in some tree for whenever they come to return, “what’s up with your hair anyways?” 

“Hmm,” Linhardt winces as a lock catches on the ground. Arlow perches on his shoulder, digging his talons into Linhardt’s shoulder, but that’s a pain that he’s used to. “Well, you’ve pretty much seen it already. I hum the song, my hair glows, and I can use healing magic.” 

“And you can just… always do this?” Caspar reaches out to comb a hand through Linhardt’s hair. It’s far closer to his neck than he probably intended, and Linhardt shivers. 

“Yeah, pretty much.” He bats Caspar’s hand away. It’s far too close to his neck, and he doesn’t like it. Or maybe he likes it a bit too much. “But I can’t cut my hair. The magic drains away.” 

He vaguely gestures to the bun at the top of his head, comprised of short, dark green hair. “I was… testing the magic myself, a few years ago. Cut off the top layer of my hair. It’s been dead like this ever since.” 

“That’s bonkers.” 

“Bonkers.” 

Caspar gives a little sheepish laugh. “Sorry. It’s just… wow. The only magic I’ve ever seen has been a lot… meaner than that.” 

“You’ve seen other magic?” 

“Aaaaaaand we’re here!” 

Sure enough, the forest gives way to a town, decorated with streamers and banners and signs, all dotted with stars. 

“Wow…” Linhardt breathes, staring at the town. It’s completely different than he was picturing. He wasn’t sure what he  _ was  _ picturing, just… not this. Not people dancing in the streets, swinging around each other and clapping hands and laughing. It’s almost overwhelming to look at. 

Towering above the town is a castle, dark and foreboding against the bright sunny nature of the festival. 

“Looks fun, huh?” Caspar grins. “We can join the festivities soon, but first, I just gotta bring you to meet Dorothea and Petra. They should be able to do something for managing all of that hair you got.” 

Without waiting for an answer, he takes off running, dragging Linhardt behind him. Arlow squawks in protest. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dorothea and Petra end up being two ladies renting a room in some hotel of a sorts, and they both seem… very friendly towards Caspar.

“Caspar!” A woman launches herself at Caspar in a hug, with dark hair and wearing a sleek red dress. Another woman stands behind them, her dark mauve hair braided. Neither one of them are paying any attention to Linhardt, not at first. 

“Hi, Dorothea, could you-  _ oof. _ ” Caspar shoves at the woman - Dorothea - until she releases him. “Can it wait? I wanna introduce you to someone.” 

“Oh? Did you finally take my advice?” And then Dorothea’s looking upwards, over Caspar’s shoulder, and her emerald green eyes meet Linhardt’s own. “Ah! You did!” 

“What- no! It’s not like that!” Caspar shakes his head, and he’s all red again. “This is Linhardt. I totally rescued him. And he needs some help with his hair. Don’t you, Lin?” 

Dorothea’s smile falters for a second, but then she’s reaching out, grabbing Petra’s hand and dragging the other woman towards Linhardt. 

“Some help would be nice, yes,” Linhardt admits, swallowing. 

“Well, aren’t you a looker?” Dorothea combs her fingers through Linhardt’s hair with a hum. “With that long hair of yours, I’m almost jealous.” She smiles sweetly, but something about it unnerves Linhardt, and he shivers. “Oh, I haven’t introduced myself, have I? I’m Dorothea. And this lovely darling over here is my sweet Petra.” 

Petra, throughout this entire conversation, had been sifting through Linhardt’s hair, her eyes wide. That seems to be a common reaction, Linhardt notes. 

“This is the longest hair I have been seeing,” Petra says, and she glances up at Linhardt and Dorothea both. “Are you wanting me to braid it?” 

“I’d like to partake in the festivities without stepping on it,” Linhardt says, wrinkling his nose. “So a braid would be nice, yes.” 

“And partake you shall!” Dorothea gives Petra a little nod, and both women get to work looping and braiding his hair, twisting the locks into something far shorter. 

The entire time, Caspar paces the length of the room, pointedly not looking at them. It’s cute, in a way. Linhardt tries to focus more on him than on the hands in his hair, because the longer he thinks about the hands in his hair, the sleepier he grows. And, for once, he doesn’t  _ want  _ to sleep. Not when he’s going to see the stars festival for the first time. 

Soon, they finish, and Dorothea pulls Petra into a kiss as Linhardt stands. His hair now swings in a braid that only barely touches the floor, and it’s actually really nice, not having the weight of his hair dragging against the floor. 

“Thanks, Dorothea, Petra,” Caspar says, and he’s finally done pacing around, it would seem. He offers Linhardt a smile, his head tilted. “I’ll… give you what you want at the festival, okay? Now come on Lin!” 

Linhardt hardly is able to get a word in as Caspar yanks him forward again. 

“It was lovely to meet you, Linhardt!” Dorothea waves. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The festival is still going in full swing when Caspar pulls Linhardt out of the inn. 

Dancers weave through the streets with hardly a care. Merchants have set up stalls on the sides of the streets, selling all sorts of food and trinkets. Music plays from various street musicians and bands, stationed on all corners of the city like a guard posting. 

“Isn’t it lovely?” Caspar turns to smile at Linhardt. The sunlight catches his hair, just like it did in the tower window, and he looks… radiant in its beams. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, tearing his gaze away from Caspar and his far-too-bright smile to watch one of the dancers instead with a yawn. “Are we going to just stand here? Can I at least take a nap on your shoulder or something?” 

“What?” And the light from the sun only brightens Caspar’s flushed cheeks. “There’s no time for  _ napping,  _ Linhardt. Come on! I got a bag of coins to spend, just for the festival.” 

“Sounds exhausting.” Still, this is probably the coolest thing he’s going to see in his life, and while it’s far too draining to even think about staying for more than a couple of days… well, soon he’ll be back at his tower, and Caspar will be off doing… whatever it is he does. 

For some reason, that makes him feel distressed. He doesn’t want to linger on that for long. 

“Oh! Over here!” Caspar drags him off towards one of the stalls before he even has the chance to really think about that weird, sad thought. That’s a good thing; he doesn’t like to think about things that make him distressed. Like how lonely he is in his tower, even with Arlow for company. 

He stumbles over his feet as Caspar slows to a stop in front of one of the stalls, grateful for the braid now more than ever as his hair swings against his back. 

The vendor is selling an assortment of hair clips and pins, all stylized after stars. Linhardt glosses over the clips before looking elsewhere, towards some of the street dancers. It looks tiring, but at least it’s entertaining. 

It’s entertaining, at least, until he feels a prick against the side of his head, the slide of something settling into his hair, and he snaps his gaze back to a sheepish Caspar.

Caspar, who pulls his hands away from Linhardt’s hair, his head tilted. “You like the stars, right? I just… I thought…” 

Linhardt moves his hand up to touch at the clip that Caspar’s tucked into his hair, rubs his thumb against the smooth, star-shaped design.

“Thank you, Caspar,” he says, offering a small smile of his own. 

Caspar blushes a bright red again, and Linhardt snickers internally. He’ll have to remember just how cute the man looks flushed red, and how easily drawn out it is. 

“Now come on! Do you wanna try some food? How did you even  _ eat  _ in the tower? I bet you’ve never had Adrestian fudge before!” 

“Caspar, please, slow down!” But Linhardt’s laughing as Caspar drags him along again. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of his evening is full of doing… festival activities. Linhardt assumes that they’re normal festival activities, at least. 

Caspar buys him some of the “Adrestian Fudge” that he had mentioned in his earlier ramblings, and it’s probably the most delicious thing that Linhardt’s ever had the pleasure of putting into his mouth. To say he likes it is a vast understatement. 

_ Maybe I’ll eat more food if it’s all sweet like this,  _ he thinks, directing his thoughts towards the spirits. They are still silent. It’s almost unnerving. 

At one point, Caspar had persuaded Linhardt to dance. He’s never danced before. Oh, he’s read about dancing, about all the different types of dance, all the forms. But he’s never had the energy to try it out himself. 

He doesn’t like it very much, he decides, after twirling around in the arms of random strangers, only to end up chest to chest with the shorter Caspar right as the music for the song stops, hands clasped together. It’s exhausting. He’s so tired. Asides from this being the biggest adventure of his life, it’s also the most time he’s spent on his feet, and they ache something fierce. He’s lost track of Arlow too, which is… strange. 

But it is fun. Definitely not something he could do while in his tower. 

“It’s almost time!” Caspar drags Linhardt behind him towards the docks, and Linhardt has half a mind to yell at him to slow down again, but that hasn’t done him much good in the past, so he keeps his mouth shut, yawning as he stumbles along. 

“So, what’s tonight, exactly?” Linhardt huffs whenever Caspar finally releases him, right in front of a small canoe. 

“You’re in luck, my dude!” Caspar kneels, fidgeting with the ropes on the canoe. “It’s the whole reason I’m in the capital at all. Tonight, there’s gonna be a big meteor shower. It’s why there’s a festival! And then after the shower, there’s a smaller celebration that the princess holds. We get to stay in the palace… and then tomorrow, I’ll bring you back to your tower.” He clambers into the canoe, and then offers his hand. “Coming?” 

“Oh.” Linhardt takes the offered hand, climbing into the canoe with a grimace. He’s certainly never been in a boat before, though that’s not really saying much. 

“I guess I do have to go back to the tower,” he says, settling into the canoe. It’s small, smaller than he had thought when he once read about canoes and other types of boats. 

“Well, I mean…” Caspar shuffles awkwardly, grabbing at the oars to row them out across the sea. Dozens of other citizens appear to be doing the same, so this must be a regular, normal thing. “You don’t have to go back.” 

“What do you mean?” Linhardt yawns, crossing his legs and pulling his braided hair into his lap. Arlow swoops down to land on his shoulder, and Linhardt rubs his head fondly. 

“Well, it’s just…” Caspar’s not looking at him, pointedly staring out at the water. “I dunno anything about how you were living, but it kinda seemed… I dunno. Lonely?” 

“...I suppose it was,” Linhardt admits. It’s what he’s been trying to avoid throughout this entire trip; he’s lonely, in a way he never thought he’d be. He was content with it until he met Caspar.

“And I mean, now you’re out here! Seeing the world!” Caspar waves at the town, at the sea, at the people in boats just like them, with their own lives. “Do… do you really want to go back?”    
  


“I don’t know.” Linhardt doesn’t like this feeling, because Caspar has a point. He doesn’t want to go back. But he doesn’t want to stay either. Being around other people is so overwhelming, he just wants to curl up and take a nap and sleep for a thousand years. And yet, seeing the world is so different from just reading about it. 

He’s starting to think the spirits were wrong. A world this beautiful can’t be evil, can it? 

“Well, you should think about it,” Caspar finally looks at him again. The wind ruffles his hair, throwing the messy locks every which way, and although it’s wholly endearing, he keeps shoving at his hair to get it out of his eyes. It’s clearly not working.

“Here, let me.” Linhardt slides the star pin out of his hair. He doesn’t need it, not right now. He leans forwards, hands brushing Caspar’s cheek to pin the star clip into his hair, clipping his bangs back so that they don’t fall in his eyes anymore. 

“Lin? What are you doing?” Caspar’s eyes are wide, and there’s a flush on his cheeks again, and Linhardt can feel Caspar’s breath on his face with just how close they are. “Hey, I gave you that clip as a gift! You can’t give it back to me!” 

“You need it more than I do at the moment.” Linhardt smiles, and his hand lingers. Caspar’s skin is soft and warm under his touch, pleasantly heated from the blush, and now that he’s not paying attention to the way his hair sways in the wind, he can feel just how close they’re pressed together. Linhardt’s all but climbed into his lap to clip his hair back, and Caspar instinctually wraps an arm around Linhardt’s waist to keep him steady. 

Caspar swallows. 

Linhardt’s read dozens upon dozens of romance books. He knows all about love at first sight, read about knights rescuing princesses from towers just like the one he’s been trapped in his entire life. 

He’s no princess, and Caspar, for all his charms, is no knight. But this feels like one of those stories nevertheless. 

“Caspar,” he says, softly, staring into those sky blue eyes. 

“Linhardt…” Caspar says back, in the same whispery tone. 

Linhardt brushes his hand over Caspar’s cheek, leaning in. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Someone should really stop him. 

But then people begin shouting, and Linhardt jerks away as quickly as he dares. His fingers burn where he was touching Caspar, and he’s shaking like a leaf. What was he thinking? 

“T-the meteor shower is starting!” Caspar is still all flushed red, and now that the sun’s gone down, he’s not as bright to look at. He gestures towards the night sky, which is… glittering with stars, both the normal ones and the meteor shower. 

“Wow…” Linhardt breathes. For a moment, he forgets about the earlier closeness, and awkwardness, because the sky… it’s just as beautiful as he’d imagined. 

The stars streak across the sky, and everything’s glittering and sparkling, and Linhardt wraps arms around himself, staring upwards at the sky. 

“Pretty neat, right?” Caspar scoots a little bit closer, nudging against Linhardt’s side. “The stars only fall like this once every five years or so. People used to say that it was a reminder from the spirits.” 

“The spirits?” Linhardt can’t bring himself to tear his gaze away from the shooting stars, but he presses against Caspar’s side as well, curling against him. “You know of the spirits?” 

“Everyone in this kingdom knows about the spirits.” Caspar sounds quieter, less abrasive than normal. “Twenty years ago, the spirits brought the kingdom a child, who was supposed to be the new heir. Edelgard was so sick, not many people thought she would survive. But she did survive. And the king’s advisor, Lord Arundel, was exposed for dabbling in dark magic. The spirits weren’t happy, so they took their gift away.” 

“Oh…” Linhardt wrenches his gaze away from the stars, to glance over at Caspar. “That sounds like the spirits.”

“So you know the spirits?” Caspar wraps an arm around Linhardt’s waist again, as Linhardt tilts his head to lean it against Caspar’s shoulder. It’s painfully warm, but he likes it. 

“They raised me.” Linhardt places his hand against Caspar’s thigh, steadying himself as he stares up at the sky again. “Taught me how to use my magic… Brought me food and water… gave me new books to read… they even gave me Arlow.” 

He sighs, releasing a yawn. “The spirits always told me that the outside world was evil. But… they’ve been quiet ever since I left. And besides, I don’t really think you’re all that evil.” 

“Aww, thanks!” Caspar laughs, and Linhardt finds himself smiling along. This isn’t so bad. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s ridiculously late whenever the meteor shower ends. 

Linhardt’s nearly fallen asleep, and he thinks that if it were any other night, he’d already be drifting away, comfortable and warm as he is. However, it’s not a normal night, and he is still wide awake, staring up at the sky, curled against Caspar’s side. 

But the shower does end, and Caspar nudges Linhardt off of him gently. Linhardt makes a muffled sound of protest, but he straightens himself up, shuffling around on the seat as Caspar grabs for the oars again.

“So what now?” 

“Now, we go back to the palace, and you’ll get to meet the princess!” Caspar shoves at the water with the oars, carrying them back to shore. “You’ll love her, I promise. She can be a bit bossy, but she’s so thoughtful when it counts.” 

“She sounds exhausting.” Still, Linhardt wraps his arms around his knees, the gentle breeze soothing against his exposed skin. 

“Oh, she can be. Her friends are super nice though. You’ve already met Bernie and Dorothea and Petra, but there’s also Ferdinand and Hubert. We’re kind of a… close knit group, you might say.” 

“Uh huh.” Linhardt’s not sure he really wants friends, but Caspar speaks so fondly of them… he can’t help but nod along. 

Caspar docks the boat, and he climbs out to tie it. “I can’t see a thing,” he complains, and with his back to the town’s lights, Linhardt can tell that he’s obviously struggling to tie the boat down. 

“Here, let me,” Linhardt starts humming. 

Caspar opens his mouth like he’s going to protest, but he reacts far too late to really say anything. Linhardt’s hair starts to glow, and he scoots closer so that the glow of his hair illuminates the ropes that Caspar is struggling with. 

Caspar ties off the ropes, and he looks so pretty in the light of Linhardt’s magic, glowing softly. “Uh. Thanks.” 

Linhardt stops humming, and the glow fades. “I have magic. Might as well use it.” 

“Right.” Caspar reaches out his hand, and Linhardt takes it, clambering out of the boat. “Come on. The palace awaits! Get ready for the best party of your life!” 

“I’ve never gone to a party before, Caspar,” Linhardt reminds him, “I literally have nothing to compare it to.” 

“Well… still! I bet you’ll definitely wanna stay with me when you see just how much fun parties are.” Caspar starts off towards the giant castle looming in the distance. Linhardt follows, his gaze fixated on the palace. It’s far bigger than he expected from books, giant and sparkling. 

“With… you?” Linhardt pauses, and then smirks. “Caspar, do you want me to stay with you?” His voice takes a teasing lilt, even as he flushes red at the thought. 

“No! I mean, yes! I mean…” Caspar sucks in a breath, and Linhardt laughs. It’s nice to tease him, he responds to it so well. “I do. Like you. Like a friend! Cause like… I have my friends, but they’re not really the same. They’re all paired off with each other already, which! I’m really happy for them! But... “ 

“You’re lonely.” Linhardt finishes. 

Caspar turns to stare at him, even as they walk down the streets. “Yeah. I guess I am. Heh.” He rubs the back of his neck with his free hand, chuckling dryly. “It’s kinda funny, isn’t it? We’re both lonely.” 

“That’s not really all that funny.” Linhardt still laughs though, and he presses his free hand to his mouth to smother his little giggles. “You’re a strange one, Caspar.” 

“Hey, look who’s talking! I’m not the one with… with magic glowing hair.” Caspar stops, yanking Linhardt’s arm rather violently at the suddenness. “Oh look, we’re here!” 

The palace is… a lot quieter than Linhardt had expected a palace to be. For one, it’s deserted, without any guards or anything. The public’s quieted down since the meteor shower, so there’s no noise, no songs or anything. 

He doesn’t really have a good feeling about this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m no palace expert, but shouldn’t there be… guards? Servants?” 

The palace hallways are just as empty as the front of the palace. Caspar had insisted on taking Linhardt through his “secret tunnels” which involved lots of ladders and small narrow hallways and really it’s not a very pleasant experience at all, but Caspar had insisted and who was Linhardt to argue? 

Plus, he remembers the altercation yesterday, the fight between Caspar and that soldier. He wonders if there’s another reason why they’re taking back entrances instead of the main corridor. 

“I bet everyone’s out celebrating still.” Caspar squeezes their joined hands. “Come on, Lin, relax. It’s not like we’re gonna be attacked.” 

“On the contrary.” 

The voice isn’t Caspar’s, and Linhardt blinks, turning his head towards the sound of it. Caspar tenses up, and squeezes their hands again. It’s comforting. 

“Lord Arundel,” Caspar says, through gritted teeth, “what are you doing here?” 

A man steps out of the shadows. He certainly looks like evil. Linhardt shivers at the sight of those dark eyes of his, eyes that are gazing at him like he’s found something tasty to eat. 

“I believe I should be asking that of you,” the man - Lord Arundel - says, smiling. It’s not a very comforting smile. “This is, after all, my palace.” 

“It’s not yours, it’s Edelgard’s.” Caspar is bristling. It reminds Linhardt of Arlow when he’s met a predator bird, feathers bristled on edge. If Caspar had feathers, they would all be sticking up and out right now. It’s an amusing thought. 

“Edelgard is not queen yet,” Lord Arundel says, “nor will she ever be. Not whenever I finally lay claim to the gift that the spirits stole away all those years ago.” 

“That gift wasn’t for you, it was for the kingdom! And nobody’s found it!” Caspar tugs his hand out of Linhardt’s grip to place on Linhardt’s chest instead, protectively. 

“I believe,” Lord Arundel smiles again, “that you have. And you brought it right to me. Today must be my lucky day.” 

“What… Lin?” 

Caspar turns his head to stare at Linhardt, and there’s fear in his eyes. Linhardt doesn’t like the way that looks. Someone as kind as Caspar shouldn’t ever have a look of such  _ fear.  _

“It’s me, isn’t it?” And really, the pieces fall together so quickly for him. A gift to humanity, stolen away when they didn’t deserve it. Linhardt, raised by the spirits alone, with a magic that nobody’s heard of. He honestly should’ve put it together sooner. 

“Come peacefully, and I’ll have no need to harm you.” Lord Arundel’s gaze flits from Linhardt to Caspar and then back to Linhardt. 

“Yeah right!” Caspar’s hand on the front of Linhardt’s chest only tightens. “You’re just gonna use him to terrorize the people and give yourself power! You don’t deserve him! The spirits were right to take Lin away!” 

“Hmph. Foolish child.” Lord Arundel flicks his wrist. 

Dark spikes pop out of the ground, coming out of nowhere. They almost look like rocks, but all spiky and sharp. One knocks into the hand that Caspar has on Linhardt’s chest, and another shoots directly into Caspar’s chest, knocking him backwards. 

“Caspar!” Linhardt turns, but a hand curls around his wrist, yanking him backwards. Lord Arundel’s grip is cold, far colder than a normal human should be. Not that Linhardt really has any idea what a normal human should feel like, but he does know Caspar. 

Caspar, who hasn’t gotten back up. 

Caspar, who’s bleeding profusely from his chest, slumped against the wall. The sight would make Linhardt nauseous at any other time, but now he can’t tear his gaze away from it. 

“Let me go,” he tugs at Lord Arundel’s grip on his arm, but it’s no use. He’s scrawny and weak from being locked in a tower his entire life, and Lord Arundel has many, many years against his own. 

“You are mine now,” Lord Arundel promises, “you should just stop fighting, honestly. It won’t do you any good.” 

“Let me heal him.” 

“What?” 

“Linhardt, no.” 

Linhardt snaps his gaze back to Caspar when he speaks, and sure enough, his friend is awake, eyes fluttering, a hand pressing against the horrible wound in his chest. 

“Don’t give yourself away for me,” he says, weakly, staring up at Linhardt. “I’m not worth it.” 

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Linhardt huffs, and he turns back to Lord Arundel. “You heard me. Let me heal him, and I’ll go with you. Willingly. I’ll… I’ll give you my power. But let me heal him.” 

“Very well then.” Lord Arundel releases Linhardt’s wrist. The dark rocks encircle all three of them, ensuring that Linhardt can’t just run away, and he doesn’t even want to, honestly. What does it matter if he helps this… evil man? 

_ Evil,  _ he hears, the familiar voices of the spirits echoing in his head once again.  _ Such a man should not exist.  _

_ Oh, now you show up,  _ Linhardt thinks bitterly, even as he crosses over to where Caspar is curled against the wall, kneeling. 

“Lin, don’t do this,” Caspar whispers, as Linhardt undoes a portion of his braid to wrap around Caspar’s chest. “It’s not worth it.” 

“You can’t die,” Linhardt answers, his voice shaking. “Not for my sake. I wouldn’t be able to live with it.” 

“But if you do this… you might  _ not  _ live.” 

“But you will.” And that’s all the conviction Linhardt needs, settling the minty green hair against Caspar’s chest. 

“Wait. Wait. If I’m gonna lose you, there’s something I wanna do first.” 

Caspar brings his hand up to Linhardt’s cheek, brushing against his skin. Linhardt’s practically on top of him at this angle, just as close as they were on the boat all those hours ago. 

“Caspar, what are you doing?” Linhardt breathes, and he’s trembling with the effort to keep himself upright. 

Caspar smiles sadly, and his free hand moves to his side, and then lifts up, as if to caress Linhardt’s hair. “I’m sorry, Lin.” 

And then something drags through Linhardt’s hair.

“No!” He hears Lord Arundel roar, as Linhardt jumps upright in shock. It feels like a weight has been lifted from his head. Everything feels lighter. Caspar’s cut his hair right at his waist, and the cut locks darken, matching the layer of hair at the top from Linhardt’s experiments years ago. 

Which means his magic is gone. 

“You  _ idiot,”  _ Linhardt shakes his head. One of his hands wraps around Caspar’s hand still lingering against his cheek, and the other presses against the wound, desperately. “Why did you do that?” 

“Couldn’t…” Caspar trails off, and his eyes are fluttering weakly. Linhardt’s no expert, but he thinks Caspar is dying. 

He shouldn’t be allowed to die. 

_ Sing,  _ the spirits whisper in his ear. 

Linhardt sighs, and he begins to sing. 

He knows the healing incantation by heart, even if he never uses it. The words are practically tattooed on his brain, and try as he might, he won’t forget them any time soon. He used to scoff at that, since he doesn’t  _ need  _ the words to perform the incantation, just the tune, but he’s grateful now. 

As he sings, the wind kicks up. They’re indoors, so that’s… a little strange. Lord Arundel looks confused and pissed off, and he starts marching towards them, but the wind just knocks him off balance. 

And Caspar’s eyes are closed now, so Linhardt grits his teeth and sings louder. His hair isn’t glowing - it can’t, not now that it’s cut - but the wind just keeps picking up, like the spirits are defending him. 

“What have you done?” Lord Arundel roars, but he can’t touch them. He  _ won’t  _ touch them. Linhardt tunes him out, focusing on Caspar and the familiar feel of his magic thrumming just under his skin. 

He vaguely hears footsteps as well, and he tunes those out too. 

Finally,  _ finally,  _ the spell works. Caspar’s wound begins to close, and Linhardt pours his heart out through his voice. He sings the same two verses of the incantation over and over and over again, a tear streaking down his cheek. When had he started crying? 

“Ugh,” Caspar groans, and his eyes flutter open again. “Lin?” 

Linhardt finishes the verse he was singing, before he stops, his voice aching terribly from the force of the song. “Idiot,” he says, fondly, offering a small smile. 

“...you know, you look really pretty with dark hair.” 

Linhardt laughs. And laugh and laughs and laughs, because it’s so  _ ridiculous,  _ complimenting his hair at a time like this. Ridiculously Caspar. 

“Never pull something like that again,” he says, sitting upright. His back aches from sitting in that hunched over position for so long. “If only because I don’t think I can pull that spell off again. Not since someone decided to cut off the source of my magic. Literally.” 

“I only did it for you,” Caspar insists, and he sits up as well with a groan. “Where is Lord Arundel, anyways?” 

Linhardt turns his head. He’s not entirely sure what he’s expecting. Lord Arundel, ready to attack them again? Those black rocks pointed directly at them? 

What he’s not expecting is for Lord Arundel to be slumped over on the ground, eyes open but foggy. Dead, Linhardt suspects. He shudders, suppressing the urge to vomit at the sight. 

“Caspar, are you alright?” 

Ah, right, he had heard footsteps earlier. A woman with white hair stands before them, her hands on her hips. A much taller man stands behind her, dark hair parted over his eye.

“I-I’m okay, yeah,” Caspar nods, and he stands. He wobbles on his feet, and his tunic is all stained and damp with blood, and it’s a good thing that his tunic is black and hides the color or Linhardt would faint. Instead, he stands as well, feeling shaky and free. 

The long locks of his hair stay pooled on the ground, and Linhardt honestly can’t say he minds very much. This new length suits him very well, thank you very much. 

“Edelgard, this is Linhardt,” Caspar says, and Linhardt’s drawn out of his thoughts at the sound. Had they been talking all this time? He’s not sure. 

“The gift,” the woman - so  _ this  _ is princess Edelgard - breathes, and she offers a small smile. “Thank you for keeping our Caspar alive. I’m grateful.” 

“My pleasure,” Linhardt drawls, even as Caspar elbows him hard. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, what now?” 

It’s morning. Linhardt had promptly collapsed not long after meeting princess Edelgard, the effects of expelling so much magic taking its toll on his poor, overtaxed body. He didn’t get to sleep for long, though, as he’s been dragged into a formal meeting with Edelgard and her retainer Hubert and Caspar. 

“Linhardt, did you know that we were supposed to be siblings?” Edelgard smiles dryly. “You were meant to heal me. You  _ did  _ heal me. I don’t remember much, but I remember my mother singing the healing incantation - the same one you sang to heal Caspar - with a baby in her arms, curing my sickness.” 

She sighs. “It would be wonderful to have you here, in the palace with me. I’ve always wanted a little brother. I could grant you anything you could ever desire.” 

It’s a tempting offer. Linhardt has half a mind to accept it. Except… 

“With all due respect,” he starts, folding his hands in his lap, “the castle is just a much bigger tower, to me. I’d like to go out and see the world first.” 

Edelgard raises a brow, “I suppose I can’t change your mind?” 

“My mind’s made up.” Linhardt finds Caspar’s hand, squeezing it. “I’ll just stick with Caspar, I think. He’ll be able to travel freely without worrying about soldiers attacking him now that Lord Arundel is gone, but he might need someone to get him out of trouble.” 

“Really Lin? You’re gonna come with me?” Caspar flashes him with a wide gaze, and Linhardt chuckles at the sight. 

“How else am I going to see the world?” Linhardt squeezes their joined hands again. “I can’t just go by myself. Something might happen to me! I need someone big and strong to protect me.” 

Caspar puffs out his chest at the compliment, even as his cheeks flush. It is, frankly, adorable. 

“Alright,” Edelgard relents. “Just know that there’s a place for you here whenever you’d like it.” 

“This is gonna be great! We can go all over the kingdom, seeing the stars, and you can write it all down in your journals.” Caspar is smiling, beaming as bright as the sun, and Linhardt can’t help but smile along with him. 

“Yes, yes,” he agrees. 

And, for the first time since he’s left his tower, Linhardt feels… okay. Like things are going to be alright now. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once upon a time, there was a kingdom, led by a fair Queen. 

Although the kingdom had been lost in the darkness for many years, with the help of the spirits, the evil was perished, and now the Queen rules in the light. 

But the gift of the spirits disappeared right after vanquishing the evil lord. Some say it was killed in the battle. Some say that it dissipated once the kingdom had no more need of it. 

But few know the truth. For the gift of the spirits found a gift of his own. And he was determined to treasure him for the rest of his days. 

THE END


End file.
